


Pink Collared Mask

by bmvagawood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, M/M, ryan centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmvagawood/pseuds/bmvagawood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GTA AU. Ryan has two lives. One as the Skull, a cold hearted killer that skilled in all kinds of weaponry. The other as Ryan, a kind and caring barista at RoosterTeeth cafe who takes off days to work on his college degree. But when he accepts a spot on the Fake AH Crew, he struggles to prevent both of his lives from colliding as relationships form and others strain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here's Some Backstory

"Burnie-"

"DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING DANGEROUS THAT IS?"

"Yes, but listen-"

"MY LITTLE BROTHER JUST BLEW UP HALF THE CITY!"

Ryan couldn’t help smiling because he detected a hint of pride, “Well, maybe only 25%. But hey, you can buy that watch you’ve been looking at.” He can see the older crumble, the anger and worry bled out. It wasn’t his nature to be that way.

"I just worry about you, Ry. What if you get locked up or killed? You are my responsibility," the words were quiet and fumbled but sincere. Ryan played with the skull mask in his hands as he sat on his small bed. It was smooth plastic, a reminder of better days. Of a spot light shining on him, a hand waving enthusiastically in the crowd. Burnie calling him a nerd for being in theater club, but always being front row of his performances. His parents were just as supportive like in everything else he did. Ryan wondered if they’d be supportive of him now.

"Sorry, but Los Santos has very few well paying jobs for someone who didn't go to college," he sighed, laying on his bed, "The cafe helps, but this town is expensive. I’m 22, I can handle myself." Burnie only offered silence as he also stared at the mask that many connected to death.

Ryan knew he felt useless. It was a feeling older siblings loathed because they believe they had to be the one working. But when your life is suddenly burned up, prized possessions now ashes and money that was never in excess depleted: an elder brother can only do so much.

_Ryan just turned 19, armed with a high school diploma and college promises. But it was a cold December evening when the smell of smoke woke him up, his lungs protesting as he got up and started yelling. Yelling for his parents, for Burnie. He only hoped they got out as he crawled out the door, phone in hand to dial 911 and smoke filling his lungs. The operator stressed for him not to look for his family, telling Ryan to wait outside and the firefighters wouldn't be long. With no medical knowledge and fear shaking his bones, he felt utterly useless._

_21 year old Burnie had scrambled out not too long after, curly hair in a mess and clothing streaked with dark soot. He wordlessly pulled Ryan into a hug as they watched their small childhood house be consumed by flames. It was almost beautiful in a way as the fire was bright against the night sky, but the fact of memories now aflame destroyed the thought. The firefighters arrived and tamed the flaming beast, but their parents were beyond saving. The brothers left for another city, taking the clothes on their back and a few thousand._

Ryan’s always had a fascination for weapons and explosives, having grown up in the poorer area where gangs weren’t a secret showed him a job he could do. And that he could do well. His name was slowly built and a mask he stole from a theater store shrouded his identity. He honed his skills by breaking into gun shops and training using multiple weapons. Now he was 22 with all types of felonies under his belt. His brother was 24 and the type of person Ryan would probably kill, an honest worker who runs a successful business.

_(It’s a mystery why the Skull protects RoosterTeeth Cafe, it’s theorized that the owners pay him. But it’s common knowledge that if you try to rob it, you signed a death warrant.)_

Burnie got up from his chair to turn on the TV. It, of course, was set to the news station and Ryan had to grin as the wreckage he had left only a few hours previous was being talked about. The reporter looked scared to be there, glancing around as he spoke, “Police believe this was done by Skull, the buildings belonging to notorious gang Blades whom claimed Skull as their rival. Neighboring convenience stores of Skull appearing to break into a car and drive away not too long ago.”

"Care to explain the stolen car?" his tone was like that one teacher who wants you to say why you’re sorry when you do something wrong.

 Ryan rolled his eyes, looking through his phone for other news as the station droned on about him, “Stop being so do the right thing, I just needed to get a ride to Tesseract and the cameras would have gotten its license plate. Now get out of my room.”

Burnie chuckled, shutting the television off and grabbing his coat, “I have stopped being like that the moment you became ‘Skull’, now excuse me but I have a job to get to. Not stealing and exploding stuff up like some people.” Ryan politely flipped him off and earned a laugh before the brunet slipped out the room. He heard a door close and lock as Burnie left their apartment. An article had popped up in LSNews about the Fake AH Crew, a gang that has captured Ryan’s interest.

"It appears Mogar and Brownman have joined," Ryan smirked, looking through reports of exploded cars and perfect head shots from a clothing store robbery. Perhaps a little overkill, but that’s their style. The two big names escaped in a plane, obviously Beardo’s work as it evaded police easily. Fake AH Crew was started with Beardo and Ramsey, very important people in crime. Beardo was an amazing driver of many vehicles, including being stellar at piloting. Ramsey was a natural born leader and great planner, the police got him once and managed to get one interview before he was broken out. The video was posted online by an anonymous source and shared everywhere before police could take it down. He was a very charismatic guy with an infectious laugh and a humor Ryan appreciated. A man called Gavino joined not too long after the gang’s creation, a growing criminal that had a fascination in bright clothes and large sunglasses. Many said he was a bit of an idiot, but others whisper of impossible luck and a jack of all trades skill.

Mogar and Brownman were also a duo act, though often it was clear who led which heist. The first was a vicious killer much like a bear, often using explosives or large machine guns. Security cameras typically have footage of him grinning at them before being shot out. Brownman was a phenomenal sniper, rumors tell how he could hit a dime with his eyes closed from a mile away. Of course that couldn’t be true, but Ryan did not underestimate his skills otherwise. The two fit like two sides of a murderous coin: one had a ferocious style with a lot of flair, one preferred stealth and quick precision.

They worked together beautifully despite the huge difference in performance. Ryan’s never wanted to work with another, but he might reconsider for this group. He glanced at the other bed, wondering what would Burnie tell him if he mentioned it. Probably a warning about the danger of these insane criminals, but to be fair, Ryan wasn’t a defenseless citizen. His name is rather well known and when he walks around as a civilian, he could hear alleys talking about the Skull: skilled in all types of weapons and perfect assassin. 100% success rate.

Ryan tossed his phone on his bed and heads to the shower to get rid of the red dried on his skin. It would have been a clean job (sneak in, take the money, place sticky bombs, get out, blow everything up, leave), but a guard decided to play tough and try to choke him. He just didn’t know Ryan carried a butterfly knife in his pocket. His shift for the cafe was in an hour and he doesn’t want try to explain why there was blood in his hair  _again_.

Meg needs to stop being so observant, it’s scary.


	2. Aha You Thought The Backstory Was Over!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael may have made a mistake and a look into Ryan’s second life and how he stays hidden. Decisions are made, characters introduced, and feelings are shared.

Alright, Michael fucked up. That’s pretty damn obvious.

Ray told him.

Geoff yelled it at him.

Jack maybe hinted at it.

Hell, even  _Gavin_  fucking told him.

It was supposed to be a small heist, Michael and Ray proving their name. But, Mogar isn't the quiet little kid that sneaks into a clothing store and steals money from the register. No.

He’s loud. He barges in and  **demands**. He roars like a god damn bear and for fucks sake-

"GEOFF, I GET IT! I FUCKED UP BIG TIME." Michael fumed with anger, cutting the lecture short. Jack,  _b_ _less his kind heart_ , was at his side immediately with hands gentle on his shoulders and _Michael calm down you don’t want to do this_. His (almost) boss looked unimpressed with his rage as his blue eyes were ice cold when they met blazing brown. He could see Ray sitting at the end of his vision, staring at him with annoyed furrowed eyebrows. But that wasn't unusual. Michael’s lips twitched from the effort of not smiling at his partner but they stilled at the calm voice.

"But  _do_  you? This jeopardizes you guys because I wanted something quiet so the other dickheads don’t know that you’re being tested,” Geoff walked closer, forcing Michael to tilt his head up to not break eye contact, “How will Mogar and Brownman be if the Fake AH Crew rejects them?”  _They wouldn't be anything. It would kill our names. Ray._  Michael glanced back, his and Ray’s eyes colliding in shared fear. He knew the outcome as well.  _This is all my fault._

Jack and Gavin instead stared at Geoff, their expressions unreadable, but undoubtedly solemn The leader’s own face was emotionless when he turned his gaze back. It felt like an eternity as silence marched on and finally Michael whispered words he doesn't say to anyone else but Ray, “I’m sorry.”

It was a huge deal to the duo as apologizing is a rarity with both being stubborn as fuck, but the brunet knew it was the least he could do. A thousand dollar take is not even close to a worthy exchange of a tarnished reputation. He bowed his head and stared at his shoes, still speckled with dirt and blood. Michael thought sadly of Jack’s offer to help clean them and how now it’s never going to happen. Ray probably wouldn't help either since he has a passive aggressive anger.

He really did want to be a part of the Fake AH Crew, they were the toughest gang in Los Santos history! But Michael was so programmed on just him and Ray. They were equals, partners in crime and life, how was he supposed to get used to a head honcho in 2 days? Michael tried to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathed slowly, although the thought of them having to start over again made his head spin and stomach turn. Long days of researching and coffee fueled planning instead of quick jobs, long nights of stealing and running instead of sleeping curled together.  _Fuck, I can’t believe this. We were so **close**._

Geoff clicked his tongue, snatching the entire room’s attention. The ice had melted away into something warmer, a smile now present under his ridiculously stereotypical boss mustache, "Just don’t let it happen again without telling me, asshole. You got me worried as fuck when I heard explosions.” There was a small pause as the words were digested but then there were arms pulling at his sides and Ray burying his face in his shoulder. Gavin’s cheerful various noises rung in his ear as it quickly became a lad hug fest and Michael couldn't find it in him to complain. He couldn't complain either when the other two also joined because he was too busy laughing and grinning. They were all adult men now tripping over each other yet, it didn't feel out of place.

Ray gripped at his shoulders when everyone let go, a toothy grin stuck on his face as he whispered but not really, “We did it, Michael! Dude, we are going to be  _badass_." Jack tussled his hair with one of the usual soft smiles and they may be a bunch of ruthless criminals, but it felt good to revel in childlike excitement. Geoff was grinning and his eyes were shining with what seemed like pride. After months of throw away jobs and sly suggestion, Mogar and Brownman were now Fake AH Crew members and Michael can’t remember being this happy except for when he and Ray met for the first time in person as excited teens.

_Damn, I didn't fuck something up for a change._

**\-----**

His hair was still damp when he tied on his apron, arms flushed a slight pink as he pinned a name tag reading:  **RYAN**. It had taken a towel, a lot of hot water, and 20 minutes to get all of the grime and blood off his light strands and skin. One bus ride later and he was back to work at smiling politely, memorizing, and making drinks. The smell of coffee and various spices assaulted his nose, all machines whirring quietly, vanilla and pumpkin the strongest as it was fall. Man, did people love their pumpkin lattes. Ryan himself didn't care for it, he awaited holiday season with sharp peppermint and pretty candy canes. While Halloween was fun at best, Christmas with its sappy movie marathons and stealthy gift hiding was his favorite.

His thoughts were so distracted by jingling bells and colorful lights that her voice startled him into dropping the sugar packets, “Wake up, it’s noon already!” Lindsay grinned at him with usual mischief lining her smooth features. She was definitely the person Ryan trusts most besides Burnie and Ryan was the only she trusted. To the regular person, she was simply a cheerful young woman with long, dark red hair and a bubbly smile. But he could see her sea eyes analyzing everything around her and her fingers twitching at her sides.

She was an information broker, computer nerd extraordinaire as he dubbed it, and the one who kept Ryan and Skull from crashing into each other. They met while he was on a job to assassinate her employer whom she desisted. One hurried exchange of freedom for information on the boss had them speeding away on a motorcycle while bullets flew past their helmets.

Ryan often reminded her she had asked for liberty not an exactly safe escape to which she politely replied with her middle finger.

Barbara had scrambled to assist with the spilled packets, yet was not much help as she kept making jokes to Lindsay. “Barb, get back to the cupcakes or your gay ass will get us bankrupt,” he bumped her shoulder, trying to ease his unintended annoyance with a laugh. It was effective as the blonde drifted back with a wave and half-hearted insult.

“She’s pan as fuck, don’t project yourself on her,” Ryan was just happy there were barely any people as he went bright red and mumbled curses. He busied himself with making sure the machines were running fine while she continued with a cheerful tone, “Oh and that band we like might be going on tour!”

Ryan whirred around, shock nearly impairing his speech, “T-They are? When?" While on his civilian life and job, certain codes had to be set and Lindsay was the best at them. A band means a specific crew, a new song meant they had just pulled a heist, overpriced album is the signal for an increasing threat, and finally ‘going on tour’ means an offer for Skull. The "band" of interest at the moment was the Fake AH Crew and while he had tentative hopes and left cards, Ryan never expected an actual offer.

“I’ll show you all the tweets,”  _emails and_ _voice mails_ , “during your lunch break. Don’t be late!” Her smile never faded as she dropped a 5 dollar tip in Barbara’s jar (because she of all people would know he doesn't need it) and strode out the cafe. Her striking hair disappeared from sight as the lunch rush began and streams of people stampeded through the doors. His grin came easier than other days with the excitement bubbling through his veins, blocking out rude customers using the soothing whir of the espresso machine and the appearance of his friend, Meg, to help lighten the stress.

2 PM rolled around after what felt like 100 pumpkin spice everythings and many, many muffins later. With flour caking his hair from a bored Barbara and many pastries shoved in a paper bag, he rushed down the sidewalk to a nearby bookstore. While it may seem like an odd place to discuss dangerous criminal business, the bookstore was huge and not so quiet that conversations could be overheard so easily.

Also, it could be that he and Lindsay just really loved books and were biased.

**\-----**

"Has he answered yet?" "No, Jack, the dude who manages it said 'a response shall be given after discussion' or some bullshit like that."

Geoff Ramsey sighed at his desk littered with papers and computer covered with news, hearing Michael yelling downstairs at Gavin probably. It made him smile a bit as they added some more personality to the group with Mogar's hothead and Brownman's dry humor. Gavin and Jack had been pushing Geoff to get more members for the Crew and so he was. The duo had worked a few jobs for them and had grown close to the youngest of the Crew with jokes and team names. Jack also voiced a soft spot for the two often; Geoff was rather indifferent as work drew him away frequently from the group and he left the ginger in charge.

While their hire was a great decision and the building wasn't so quiet anymore, one offer was still pending. Skull has a very notorious reputation of his success rate and mask: both physical and emotional. Interviews with past employers contained different responses to his demeanor. Some said he was polite and others talked of how terrifyingly cold he was. Geoff guessed it was because most gangs are assholes to contracted workers as if their payout meant they had to put up with being treated like dirt. This guy obviously gave no fucks and it earned him brownie points with the Crew. Being exceptionally skilled helped too. But nobody knew his name, face, or anyway to contact him. Word goes around the street and he just showed up, masked and armed.

Geoff laughed suddenly, drawing the attention of the other man, "Sorry, I just can't believe this fucking dude has a goddamn business card and email. Like he's some kind of lawyer."

Jack rolled his eyes and started fixing his boyfriend's hair, "How are you so sure it's him and not some punk from a low level gang? Doesn't he get contracted through word of mouth?" The boss gestured him closer to the computer, bringing up files and emails that filled the screen. His fingers never left the black strands as he peered closer. "Okay, what the fuck am I looking at?"

"Dead ends. Matt says that the owner of this email is either an extreme computer nerd or has the money to get someone who is. While people say Skull is smart as fuck, I know from experience people in the merc business can't do this shit." Geoff began to clear the mess on his screen, hand lazily stroking his curled mustache. Jack bent down further, eyes catching a familiar name before it was ripped from sight.

He glanced at the other in shock, mouth dropping open, "You don't think it's her, do you?" She was their good friend, one they cared for like family. One day, the three walk into her office to find her stuff gone and herself nowhere in the building. A note stuck to a small cat keychain Jack got her: I'm sorry guys. I just couldn't do this anymore.

Geoff only sighed, blue eyes staring at the dark oak desk in front of him. He looked sleepier than usual with near black circles and drooping eyelids; Jack felt exhausted watching him.  "I don't know what to think. I just hope she is okay."

**\----**

Lindsay and Ryan were at a standoff while being seated. The two locked colorful eyes holding different emotions. The female's contained annoyance and apprehension while the other's swirled with anger and hurt. To any other bystander, it looked as a simple staring contest. Yet, each had a hand on a hidden weapon and harsh words dancing on the tip of their tongues.

"Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me?" He hissed, hand almost crushing his own coffee cup.

"I worried you would use it against me!"

"I got you out of that office 2 years ago with an injured arm that  _you_ stitched up and men on our tails for weeks. I wouldn't have sold you out. I would  _never_  sell you out."

Lindsay clenched her jaw, struggling to not let on the anger building in her chest, “That’s the fucking point, Ryan! You and I are not supposed to care so god damn  **much**. About anyone! I would've laid my life for them and guess what that kind of thing causes in this business?”

He sighed and answered with sadness lacing his breath, “A short lifespan.” It was the depressing truth that he thought himself above. Without her, his life could never have been possible, it would have ended in many people he loved dying. Ryan reached over and held her hand, smoothing out her fingers from its clenched fist with gentle palms, “But the Fake AH Crew was so powerful, Linds. You must have had such a great career and yet, you left.” And just like that, rage simmered to understanding because they were also much like siblings. Easy to argue and easier to make up.

She smiled sadly, her words dropping to a soft tone, “God, the Crew was nothing like today. But we felt like we could do anything. You will like them, Ry, they have such kind hearts and can to make anyone in the room laugh. But I worried whenever they would go out the door, knowing what was happening everywhere is a blessed curse. I actually cried when I thought we lost Gavin one day and that's when I knew I had to leave.” He gripped her entwined fingers tighter, his chest clenching because god, does he know how it feels. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I don’t regret it for a second because I know you now. Even if I have to pull all-nighters to keep people off your trail and Burnie’s. Now before this becomes too mushy, you’re obviously going to take this job but you can’t meet Geoff Ramsey without knowing really who he is so...”

If their hand remained interlinked as Lindsay launched into stories, neither minded. Although, Ryan found some difficulty dipping his croissant into coffee which ended up with a stain on his shirt that she made fun of him for the better part of the hour. 

_Yeah, it was worth leaving because I now take care of this clumsy nerd._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up sexuality that is joked about.  
> Ryan is a flaming homosexual and Barbara is pansexual.  
> Lindsay is ??? a lot and says she's straight but stopped giving a fuck a long time ago.  
> Others shall be revealed soon enough


	3. Dialog, Dialog, and the Lay Down of Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally the title. Also, some set up for next chapter. See if you can spot it I probably made it super obvious.  
> But yeah, Ryan's a nerd and has some gay crisis somewhere in there. Oh and everyone's hot and angry.  
> [yes this chapter's short, I'm sorry but I didn't want to get to into what the next chapter will be or this chapter would never end sorry <3]

Ryan felt safe behind gray plastic, face paint smeared onto his pale skin as a backup plan. His weapons made their presence be acknowledged with a gun pressing into his back and knife cold against his forearm. Some grenades were strapped to his belt, Burnie always said to be prepared. Well he also said not to join dangerous gangs or play with guns, so some of his advice was questionable. At least to Ryan.

"Okay, Ryebread, Geoff is definitely not going to meet you alone. One, if not all, will be with him because Jack would throw a tantrum," Lindsay's voice crackled to life in an ear piece, strapped and secured under his mask, "They wouldn't fight you, but stay on your toes. The new guys are a wildcard, especially Mogar."

"Don't piss off the Jersey guy, hand close to weapon, and watch them carefully, got it." He pondered about whether to sit or not, the desert sand would not feel great against his skin, but he can't be tired before he meets them. An email shot back at Lindsay's confirmation, coordinates that ultimately led to the desert a few miles from city. His resident computer nerd guided his path using the tracking she installed into his mask. Much like a dog with a collar. Ryan couldn't really argue because it is the one thing he wouldn't ever want to take off and he wasn't that great with scalpels slicing open his skin. Yet the knowledge that eyes are following him, even if they are Lindsay's, crawls uncomfortably across his mind.

He could hear her sigh in irritation over the headset, the sound cracked through the distance, "Of course, a desert with no cameras for 1.4 miles. They know it's me and are just fucking with me now, I can feel it." The heat snaked itself underneath his clothes, jacket feeling far too hot to be comfortable, but he still had his Rooster Teeth shirt for work hidden by the dark fabric. The email gave him no time to change into something plain and now he was paying for it because they were late and he was burning slowly.

A sharp noise crackled in his ear, piercing and painful as he cursed and reached to tear the offending earpiece off. "R-R-Ry---an? I--m lo--sing---y-y-," Ryan's head snapped up and his arm stilled when a car revved into sight, a dark beast that drove easily across the stretch of sand. He cursed again under his breath, knowing they must be the cause of Lindsay's lost connection. The tracking sewn into his mask remained his only hope for backup in case things went sour. His jaw clenched as they stepped out the car, immediately identifying Geoff Ramsey with his curled mustache and black suit. The man waved, a grin plastered on his mouth although the glint of his automatic pistol stowed in his jacket pocket stole the friendliness. The black suit jacket lay lumped in odd places, no doubt where more weapons hid. The other was younger and wore danger like an outfit. _Mogar_. There was no mistaking the smile plastered onto his face or the hazardous belt of C-4 slung proudly across his chest that covered parts of his t shirt. A barrel of what seemed to be an assault rifle peeked over his shoulder, strapped to his back. _Seems I'm a little under dressed to this weapon party._

"The Skull, huh?" Ramsey mused as he walked closer, his face showing amusement.

Ryan smiled under his mask so his eyes can look like he cares, holding out a hand and kept his tone friendly, "Friends call me Skull for short." He offered his hand to Mogar after he and Ramsey shook; Ryan didn't want to accidentally offend the wildcard after all. He had way too many explosives in reach. Plus, he was kind of hot _(like movie star kind)_ and it would be an assault rifle vs the revolver he quickly took from his stock. Ramsey was also attractive in the suave gentleman way as the suit was very fitting and he had an infectious smile.

_God damn it, Lindsay, you could have mentioned they were my types._

Mogar peered at him suspiciously, more cautious than his boss as he gave a gloved handshake, "Do you ever take that fucking mask off?" His Jersey accent made his words seem angry, although he actually sounded curious. Ryan was about to say a snarky retort because yeah, I shower with the thing, it's actually part of my face, when Ramsey interrupted, sweat clear on his forehead.

"Why the fuck are we in the middle of the god damn desert? Sorry about the wait, by the way, the GPS decided to be a fucking jackass today," he glared at the sand surrounding them while Ryan realized Mogar didn't let go after their handshake and retracted his grip carefully. The dark leather matching Mogar's jacket stuck to his skin for a breath, his hand had tightened around Ryan's before falling to his side. _How odd, Mr. C-4._

"Uh, well the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get to air conditioning," the heat was becoming irritating and he now worried about the state of his face paint. It's hell to take off already. Plus, they were three adults standing awkwardly in the middle of a desert. He really should speed this along before Lindsay gets bored and investigates, "So what do you want from me?"

"That sounds a little hostile, Skull, but mostly this was to see if the email was from you. And to talk rules and shit," Ramsey offered a shrug, sounding bored himself. Mogar kept watching Ryan, not unlike a predator studying a prey. It was rather unsettling and while he was much bulkier than the younger, he recognized a threat when it was presented.

And this one had a big, bright red bow on it and a message saying, ' _I dare you'_.

"Well I have a couple of rules that come with me too," Ryan fell a step back andpatted his chrome motorcycle, "like how this bike and I never get stuck with any trackers or explosive. And that I stay Skull. No prying, no ' _let's take off his mask_ ', and absolutely no following." It was pretty standard of his jobs to briefly say his guidelines, but now it was a deadly gang that could overpower him. He was faster and more skilled than his usual business suit clients, but now working with Fake AH Crew has greatly increased the chance of the mask coming off involuntary.

"So we have trust you without knowing who the fuck you are?" Mogar seemed outraged at the prospect, but Ryan would certainly fight tooth and nail for his rules. No employer has challenged them and lived. It is what keeps Burnie, Lindsay, and Rooster Teeth safe. So fuck him, his attractive face, and his explosives for all Ryan cares. His makeshift family is top priority and jobs in Los Santos never dry up.

He waved his hand carelessly, trying not to let on how pissed off he is, "I don't know you either, **Mogar**. Identities are known for personal wishes and my track record is evidence of how it is not required to accomplish a job. But trust? Well, I don't expect it nor should you from me." He was hot, angry, and tired. Ryan knew he had a storm to deal with when Burnie questions his disappearance from the cafe. He suddenly really wanted to go home, bathe the heat away, and watch dumb reruns of old shows with his brother. But no, a job is a job and this will be one of the best he can get. Ryan sighed; Ramsey and Mogar were still staring at him with eyes of stone.

“Look, guys, you can either have me or find another hitman with a 100% success- oh wait,” Ryan said smugly, knowing how valuable he is, “but my rules are non-negotiable.”

“And neither are mine. If you’re cool with them, then we’ll send you coordinates to wait at on Monday,” the boss replied smoothly before going into a long lecture about privacy of the group, new additions, trust (at least a minimum of), pay, the rest of the crew, and other bullshit that he really expected. The hours were actually reasonable enough that he could work at least one Rooster Teeth shift in between, and even holiday days off. He could only hope Burnie won’t get pissed off if it means he didn't have to quit and come up with an excuse for it.

“So like an actual job, holy shit, do I get health care too? Maybe a cafeteria plan?”

Ramsey rolled his eyes, but his stern frown twisting up to a slight grin, “Eh, not really, sorry buddy. We do have a  nurse, Caleb. They could have been a doctor if they weren't so lazy, but at least it means we don’t have to pay them as much.” Mogar mumbled something that made the other burst into a laughing fit.

“It’s an inside joke,” he explained; his glare at Ryan was not as threatening with Ramsey doubled over, still cackling in a way that was both amusing and slightly worrying. Either way, he decided to jump on his bike before he overstayed his welcome, leaving when the two men were in a good mood.

Ryan turned on the engine, turning to address Mogar as the boss still recovering with small chuckles, “Well, I guess we are trigger-happy co-workers now. Um, see you Monday.” The brunet simply waved, eyes seeming like they tried to x-ray him by sight alone. It was unnerving, so he took it as a ' _go_ _the fuck away_. Mogar’s stare never wavered until Ryan watched the pair disappear under the horizon in his side mirror. And people call **him** creepy.

_One already hates me; 5 to go._

His motorcycle just touched road when Lindsay’s voice scrambled his thoughts, shouting for his attention. He slowed to a spot on the side of the highway to adjust the earpiece and rubbed some sweat off his cheekbones, “Hey, Linds. Why didn't you tell me they were both hot?” Yeah sure, he saw Ramsey’s mugshot photo a few times, but it was a damn **mugshot**. And Mogar’s security footage did him no justice either.

“Glad to know that’s the first thing you ask. Tell your dick to shut up and let your brain talk, please.”

“Oh shit, may have to give you a rain check. 5 missed calls from Burnie and a recent ‘Your shift is in 7 minutes and Meg is freaking the fuck out, get your ass over here’.”

There was silence before Lindsay said quietly, “Drive like the wind, dumbass.”

\----- 

“Dude, I’m trying to be professional and you decide to blindside me with a goddamn Always Sunny reference. Not. Cool.” Michael shrugged at the elder, a smile on his lips as he hit the safety on his rifle before tossing it in the back. He was sweating heavily with his leather jacket and belt of C-4 suffocating his chest, hair sticking to his skin, but the AC was being blasted on the coldest setting. Plus, it would take effort to take off the stuff. “You could have also gone a little easy with the fucking explosives, Rambo. We knew Skull isn't the type to go for intimidation.”

“Ah, but I am. Anyway, that mask still fucking bothers me, you know? Like who the hell does he think he is? _‘Identities are known for personal reasons and I’m a pretentious dick’_ ,” Michael grumbled, texting Ray they were on their way back. Geoff bumped the car back onto the highway, guns clattering as metal hit metal in the back seat.

The gent sighed, tapping on the wheel as he watched the road, “Probably he’s some regular guy with Skull as a secret life or some shit. Maybe he’s a dude named Stanley who wants a break from his 9-5 job as a professional dick sucker, who the fuck knows?” While Geoff laughed at his own joke, Michael did wonder who was under the mask and made it his mission to find out. He could call Matt and ask if he and Jeremy can start poking around the public cameras of Los Santos. Gavin would help out immediately and Ray could be easily convinced if he picks up some muffins as motivation...

“You’re planning to break his rules, aren't you?”

"Well, duh." **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is going to be gender neutral by the way! I was wondering whether to make them a boy or girl in this series and decided hey, why not neither. Based of the gta skin though not actual real life c: I really want to try my hand at writing different genders and sexualities so I mess something up please send me a message on here or my tumblr (same username as here) and tell me!<3


	4. Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee shops are my weakness.  
> [sorry it's short!]

Michael hated to take off his jacket. It’s worn brown leather was like a safety blanket that held extra bullets and detonators. Walking as a civilian again made him vulnerable and he loathed it. But he needed those muffins. So he shut his mouth, shoved his unruly curls into a plain dark green beanie, and hid his pistol in a loose gray hoodie. He stuffed a handful of bills into his jean pocket along with his cellphone; his hand hesitated over the keys sprawled on his desk before he decided to walk.

Exercise does the body good or some bullshit like that.

“Going shopping?” Ray called from the living room, pausing his game to look up from the TV. The man was laid out on the couch, Xbox One whirring away as he was undoubtedly completing achievements.

He shrugged, a hand on the doorknob, “Eh, sort of. Just going to pick up some stuff from Starbucks or something.” Michael smiled when Ray perked up just like he knew he would, pausing the game to look at his friend with wide eyes.

"Are you going to get-" "Of course, buddy, when have I ever fucking forgot the muffins?"

The Puerto Rican matched his grin before returning to the screen, humming a Starbomb song as Michael left. Sometimes he felt more like a single mother than the guy's best friend, but it was worth the hours of laughing at reality TV with a coffee and pastry in hand. Plus he occasionally wanted to kiss the fuck out of him, but that was a problem for another day.

Their favorite store got blasted a couple of weeks ago by a gang and has been in construction since. Michael scrolled through nearest coffee shops on his phone, settling on one only 4 blocks away. Not too far, but not too close where Ray could stuff his mouth everyday. The near perfect ratings helped too and there were tons of compliments about the staff especially. Particularly about a dude and chick pair.

Curiosity peaked, he shoved his phone into his pocket and started towards RoosterTeeth Cafe.

-

"LUNCH BREAK RUSH COMPLETED!" Meg shouted, her grin infectious as she highfived Ryan. The cafe was mostly empty save for a few regulars who also cheered. Their tip jars were almost topped off already, causing a small bubble of pride to expand in Ryan's chest. He wasn't just good for mindless killing and destruction; an elderly woman even said she wished her grandson would be as kind as him.  Ryan barely stopped himself from saying, "I don't think there's a person on earth less kind than me." Instead he forced a smile and replied with the usual, "Thank you, have a great day."

_How many people have I killed like her? How many innocents? No, not the time for a mental breakdown. I'm Ryan, not...not..._

The bell rung and he turned from the coffee machines to smile, but the greeting he was going to parrot died on his tongue. All the guilt swirling aimlessly spiraled into a hurricane.

Mogar.

"H-hello sir, how may I help you?" Maybe the quiet fear in his slightly higher voice could be taken as a civilian recognizing a criminal. Ryan was not afraid of taking him on; he was terrified of being found out. Yet Mogar merely nodded, emotionless eyes studying the cafe like he was searching for flaws. He appeared nonthreatening in his beanie and hoodie; an average young adult looking for coffee.

But he knew better. Blue eyes spotted the faint outlines of a pistol handle from where it was stuck hidden.

_Pretend you don't know him. Pretend you don't know him. Pretend you don't-_

"Do you have any muffins?"

"...Excuse me?"

Mogar glanced up from his intent gaze at their display of donuts, annoyance clear in his words, "Do you have any damn muffins or not?"

Ryan nodded tentatively, realizing he was safe and starting to list off muffin flavors. He looked at the register, scratching off specks of chocolate stuck to the shiny surface to keep his attention anywhere else. Ryan hated his eyes at times. His mother used to coo about their beautiful color and remark how her own father had the exact shade. But they were so easily recognizable that he often debated about changing to colored contacts.

"I want half a dozen chocolate chip and the other half blueberry," Mogar spoke as he did with the crew, assertive and leaving no room for argument, "and two coffees, black." It was a struggle to keep his, what Burnie called, sharp tongue quiet. Meg saved him from their small silence of Mogar studying him with a scrutinizing gaze.

Her smile was a gift from heaven as she took the attention from him, "I think Barb fell asleep in the storage room, Ryan, go wake her up and ask about the muffins." Ryan nodded, muttering a quiet thanks that was probably overheard, but he didn't care because he could breathe at the back. "I'm sorry, sir, but I need to make another pot as you came right after lunch rush! You are welcome to wait at any tables," her voice stayed cheerful and he was once again at awe of her people skills. Due to her word, Barbara was asleep in the storage room, slumped in a chair with her head resting against a stack of flour bags. A mixture of egg and powder stuck to her blonde hair, various fruits and sweet stained her apron. Ryan felt exhausted looking at her and reluctantly shook her shoulder.

"Five more minutes, mom," she mumbled, blearily cracking open her eyes.

"No, it's Ryan. Do you have anymore chocolate chip and blueberry muffins?"

"Yeah, they are-" she yawned, "in the oven. Chocolate chip in mine and blueberry in Adam's." He said his thanks, but the snore that followed him out the room meant it fell on deaf ears. Ryan quickly lined the muffins into a box, being careful not to ruin not a single one. Adam helped him with the blueberry ones before returning to bake more cookies, his favorite pastry to make. The back of the shop was almost unbearably hot, sweat already pasting cloth to skin. Yet the bearded man looked perfectly fine despite the room probably being over 90 degrees. Each to their own, he supposed.

His red haired friend was already pouring the coffee into styrofoam cups, humming the song that played softly over the cafe's radio. Ryan couldn't help but smile, bumping her shoulder when Meg secured the cups' tops. "Glad to see you didn't burn back there," she grinned, taking the box to place it in a bag.

He shrugged, taking the pot to pour some coffee for themselves, "Only first degree burns, thankfully. But a five from your jar could definitely buy some ointment."

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she gestured at his own tip jar, "Hey, you almost beat me today. Maybe next time, you'll get enough to buy ice." Ryan simply gave a chuckle of his own, scanning the room for his 'customer'. Mogar sat in the corner, eyes locked onto Ryan in an odd stare. Not knowing what else to do, he raised the bag of food in a silent 'it's ready'. The man walked over, payed for the food and the baristas only managed to say, "come back soon," before he was gone.

Ryan breathed out and downed his coffee in a few gulps, relief filling every cell in his body. Meg watched him suspiciously and with a slight smile.

"What?" He finally asked, throwing his cup in the trash and being reminded again why he preferred iced tea.

She nodded her head towards the door, her face the picture of mischief, "He never looked up once from his phone until you walked back in." It took a moment for Meg's words to be processed as she leaned smugly against the counter.

_Does she not recognize him? And does she think he's...interested in me?_

"I think you got it wrong, Meg," he stated plainly and stretched out his arms, “besides, I’m not attracted to him so tough luck for him.”

She giggled, winking at him and saying her final two cents before heading to the back, “You space out when you’re nervous and you didn't notice him putting a five in your jar.” He flushed a bright red, but his stammering was only heard by the swinging door. His gaze fell upon the glass container labeled:  **RYAN’S TIPS**  in curved red marker. A bill laid atop the pile, crumbled as if just pulled from a stuffed pocket.

_It seems Mogar has more sides than I thought… Interesting._

~

Michael walked into the cramped apartment and immediately had his box stolen by a hungry sniper. “Why are you smiling so much? It’s kinda weirding me out, dude,” Ray spoke between bites of muffin. The TV was droning on about some sport Michael couldn’t give a shit about if he tried and his coffee was probably going cold, but he was smiling. Is something wrong with him? Nah.

He just shrugged, taking a blueberry muffin and a seat on the couch, “Just some hot dude at the cafe that seemed familiar, geez. Ray  _No Smiling_ Narvaez over here.”

“....Wait so did you suck h-”

“EAT YOUR GOD DAMN MUFFIN.”


	5. Third Law of Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  
> Much similarly, if your morning is filled with happiness then your evening shall be dramatic.  
>  _[Keep moving forward, sorry it's a sad chapter but I was motivated to finally post this <3]_

"Where did you go?"

"Where did _you_ go?"

The TV was shut off, the silence not helping Ryan as he tried to avoid Burnie's eyes. They were always open with each other and talked about everything, but fights always break out about the Skull and those jobs. Burnie yells how irresponsible it is for him to do such dangerous work, while Ryan shouts how he's a fucking adult now thanks. He wanted to just lay down and hide from the disapproval already making itself known.

"Nowhere, that's how I know you were gone," the sentences were shot out like machine gunfire, "Meg kept trying to call you, but the calls were dropping and texts didn't go through. _Where. Did. You. **Go**._ "

"Out," the simple word tasted of old adolescent rebellion, but all he felt was an exhaustion that threatened to buckle his knees. Some whiskey could burn that away. He never had the stomach nor tongue for alcohol, but today was already full of surprises. Burnie scoffed, his left hand balled into a fist on the sofa armrest. They never got into a physical fight, the eldest knowing full well that he didn't have the skill that comes with a certain work.

"On a job, right? You took another one without telling me!" He rose from his seat, mouth curling into a snarl. His steps and voice boomed in the ringing silence.

Ryan matched the scowl, growling, "That's none of your damn business whether or not I did! What I do keeps us and **your** cafe above the water!" His arms wove themselves against his chest, almost as if trying to become a shield. This one was different, he could tell. It isn't a _I’m worried about you_ fight, this is a _how dare you go against me_ fight.

"But at what cost, Ryan?! You became a fucking **murderer**!"

Like a spark to wood, the words ignited an anger that fueled Ryan's tired legs into motion. He stomped to their shared room, grabbing a dufflebag to pile his stuff into. Money and ammo were thrown together in a disheveled heap, then became buried by clothes and weapons. His mouth filled with a metallic taste before he noticed the sharp pain. Ryan had bitten his lip so hard he had  torn through skin, blood pooling onto his tongue like a red creek.

He could feel the rage beginning to be calmed by the sad weight on his chest, deciding to shove most of his closet into the bag. He slung an assault rifle over his shoulder and marched out the room with the dark dufflebag. Burnie now sat on the couch, irate eyes tracking his stride towards the door. Ryan felt the stare bare into his back, like razor shards cutting with every step.

"How many vacation days are you going to use?" Ryan gritted his teeth at the smug tone, hand nearly snapping the doorknob off. He let the heavy slam of door answer the question before slipping on his mask.

_Murderer… My own brother thinks I’m a murderer._

__

_**\-   -   -** _

 

He felt his body ache as he drove... No, more like it _itched_. The wind roared in his ears, but Ryan swore he could hear whispers in between the loud sounds. Murmurs of _once a killer, always a killer_. He told himself the water in his eyes was because he's been wearing his prescription contacts all day.

He stopped by a liquor store, bought a bottle of the strongest vodka he knew, and rode towards a forgotten park. Lindsay would be tracking him down soon, he had no doubt Burnie had turned to call her the moment the door slammed. But he wasn't a scared 18 year old kid anymore. 6 years of gunfire and knife wounds had killed most of the fear anyways. Ryan could handle himself. The mask he slipped off and stored in the bag on his motorcycle proved it.

 _I can make my own decisions_ , he thought venomously, taking a sip of the bottle as he settled under a tree. The bark scraped against his leather jacket, crickets sang in the relative quiet of swaying leaves and crunching grass. Vodka scorched his throat, leaving a flaming trail to the lower abdomen. Ryan grimaced, the taste was not at all a reward worthy for the burning consequence. He'd sooner claim the water in the sewers clean than say alcohol tasted delightful. But he didn't drink for the drink. It was to forget. It was to keep the nightmares away.

Burnie shared the opposite side. He drank beers occasionally and scotch when it was someone's birthday. The drink made him laugh and stumble on every other step. Ryan took another swig of the bottle as he remembered the times he had accidentally grabbed Burnie's can of beer instead of diet coke. The alcohol burnt out the immediate anger, allowing the mercenary to smile at the past. It was getting easier to grin and slump against the tree as the world turned fuzzier. The moonlit park paths started to warp into intricate curls that he found hilarious.

Three quarters of a bottle dulled his mind so much that he barely noticed when someone was walking towards him. Later, Ryan would slap his forehead and curse for both the impairment of alcohol and his hangover headache. The noise of crunching plants had stopped and a large mass of shadow was bending over to look him over.

“You alright there, buddy?” the voice was full of concern, the kindness paired with sounds of shuffling feet. Ryan turned his eyes, lazy eyes peering at the figure. Man. His height. Ginger hair covered by a.. _Was that..a Christmas hat?_

“I... _love_...Christmas!” he giggled, bitten lip splitting more as he smiled widely. The stranger seemed to stifle a laugh for his sake and looked around. His motorcycle was propped a few meters ahead against a tree, much like its owner. Ryan followed his gaze and stumbled to his feet, some sort of drunk possessiveness for the thing coming over him, “Don’t touch it! Don’t luhk at it!” His arms waved around, vodka spilling over the grass around them. The man backed up, a hand instinctively going towards his back pocket.

 _He’s cute_ , Ryan’s lagging mind supplied as he scrutinized the other’s face, _don’t get him scared of you like everyone else._

**_\-   -   -_ **

Jack usually took early morning strolls to get himself tired. He could fall asleep very quickly unless he wakes up during the night. The memory of the nightmare was just images of red dripping onto the floor from a bullet ridden torso and blue eyes staring into his own.

At first, he had thought they were Geoff’s.

His boyfriend’s eyes were more beautiful than the skies’ best day, but they were too light. The ones in his night visions resembled more the deep ocean, a dark blue that held vast dangers yet wonders.

It was always the same dream.

Same eyes.

Same blood.

He woke up with sweat on his brow, a profound sense of despair making his lungs gasp for air. Every. Night.

And so, Jack went on walks. The quiet atmosphere allowed his mind to ponder possibilities and his heart to relax. That is until he heard laughter. A high pitched noise that scrambled his thoughts and redirected his course towards itself. Into a park that was usually full of young happiness that lay silent in the early hours. His brain warned of uncertainty, but his heart reminded him that the particular laughter sounded similar to Geoff’s when he drank too much.

A laugh so drunk, it practically reeked of alcohol from the simple thought. Jack needed to make sure the man was okay for his own sake.

And so he found him, sitting against a tree and giggling at thin air. A hand lay clutching earth as if a partner’s palm, while the other was holding a large and mostly empty bottle of vodka. _That explains that_ , Jack mused, padding as quietly as he could on the dewing grass. The man paid him no attention until Jack ended up right in front of him, still giggling as he glanced up. There lidded blue eyes met wide hazel in a mixture of sober and drunk confusion.

“You alright there, buddy?” he asked, almost in a daze from how familiar those eyes were. They were complemented by fair hair and a prominent jawline; he could have been a model and those lips were awfully pink.

The stranger sucked in a breath, those cursed lips forming an ‘O’ as he gasped, “I...LOVE Christmas!” He went into another laughing fit while Jack sighed and peered around. A bike was leaned against a tree up ahead, a beautiful model with shiny metal painted black and leather as dark as a void. The license plate was blocked by a bag and before Jack could question about it, the man had stumbled to his feet and nearly tripped over as he swung his arms. While not as big as himself, the other was muscular enough to cause Jack to reach for his weapon.

Jack had literally pulled out his pistol when the stranger fell onto him, blond hair brushing against his jaw as he spoke drunk gibberish. "Woah! Okay, I need to call someone fuck."

"Don't goooo. I'm _sorry_ ," in just a few words, his heart was melted and he helped the man back towards the stable ground. Arms remained like steel wrapped around his waist, it was oddly reminiscent of Geoff when he drank to forget. With a drunk possible model that looked ready to cry and a boyfriend that would probably kill said model before asking questions, Jack had no clue what to do.

"Do you know anyone I can call?" He asked, the stranger dropping his pout and arms to delve into his pockets. A cellphone was placed into his hands along with a name.

The drunken man smiled again, much like a dog after obeying a command, eyes closing as he said, "Linnndsay! She allllways knows what to do!" He swayed and rested again against the tree like he was originally found, hair a mess and those eyes a deep blue as they stared ahead.

"Lindsay?" Jack gasped, but his surprise fell on deaf ears. He examined the device, something that could be bought at a convenience store. The phone was full of missed calls, all from one contact. The messages were plain, but it ended months of searching and questions.

_**Where are you?** _

_**Ryan.** _

 

 

_**I’m on my way.** _

 


	6. Hey, Past, Meet My Friend, Present!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sudden departure on Lindsay's part, she and Jack meet again with an unconscious Ryan on the ground between them.

Lindsay could tell how angry Burnie was by the way he seemed uncaring. The innate feeling that he has to keep his younger brother alive was the only thing that cause him to call her. His voice remained cold as he detailed what had happened and hung up with a simple, "Thanks and sorry." Sometimes she wondered if the Skull was worth taking on this broken family. But the brothers snuck their way into her heart and found a place there. She had to take care of them because who else would? Especially now with the Fake Achievement Hunter Crew hiring Ryan, the target on his back had become clearer and Lindsay was in charge of smudging it, at the very least.

So here she was at 3 in the morning, driving in her old pickup to the point that her computer had located. He usually answered her, sending back a text that said _leave me alone_ , but meant _I need a place to stay_. Irregular behavior meant irregular activity. She racked her brain, nails digging into the fake leather of the wheel as panic set in. _He better be okay or I'll kick Burnie's ass then his_.

Her car came to a stop outside a park, one she used to visit in her college days when exams became too much. The lamp posts cast the playground in a dim orange, causing her to notice Ryan's motorcycle gleaming from where it was propped against a tree. He loves that thing too much to scratch it.

"Ryan? Where are you?" Lindsay called, shutting her door with a hand lingering on her pistol. The grass crunched loudly under her sneakers, noise accompanying the chirping of crickets. A groan pierced the nature symphony and she twisted around to aim at two figure walking towards her. One she knew well as a drunk Ryan, from his mess of dark blond hair and limp limbs. The other was a larger man, his stride slow with the added dead weight of her friend. If the beard didn't tip her off, the vibrant Christmas hat jingling on his head did. The love for holidays that was an amusing trait in such a prominent criminal figure.

"Jack," she breathed, her fear fading into the wind as wisps of cold air. The gun felt heavier in her hand from where it was taken from the waist of her washed out jeans.

He looked as shocked as she did, letting out a quiet, "Lindsay..." as Ryan slipped off his shoulder onto the grass in a drunken heap. His pained moans were ignored as the old co-workers stared at each other, unsure of whether to be hostile or friendly. It felt like ages were passing in the complete silence of the night while Ryan eventually calmed.

"Then is he...?" Jack glanced down at him, eyes now suspicious and skeptical. She shook her head quickly, crossing her arms with her gun hanging from a pinky. She sighed, making cautious steps forward and toward Ryan to not alert the festively dressed man to her growing anxiety.

"He's a friend." _Well,_ _that will not help my case._

"You don't make friends. That's why you left."

"Things **change**. Now, if you'll excuse me."

She heaved Ryan up, who was gaining some of his mobility back as he only eased a portion of his weight on her shoulders. The rest was placed on his own stumbling feet as they made their way to her truck.. Jack seemed ready to speak up, probably to offer assistance, but a dark look from Lindsay quickly shut his open jaw. She had something more important to take care of than to deal with the past and owing a favor was the last thing she wanted, even if it’s small.

After getting Ryan strapped into the passenger seat, Lindsay got to work on wheeling his prized bike onto the back of her pickup truck. Ryan cared more for the stupid thing's safety than his own, most of the time. It was cute until he drives it to an auto shop first before going to hospital for himself. She could feel the eyes burning into her back as she finally secured the ramp. The drunken idiot was fast asleep already, head slumped to the side and pressed against the window. Although she was tittering on the line between anxiety and 

"Look," Lindsay surprised both herself and Jack by suddenly speaking, "I'm sorry I just left without much explanation. But feelings aren't exactly good to have in a criminal career." _Ugh,_ _having to talk about emotions **sucks**_ _. It’s like that talk with Ryan again._

Jack smiled, in his uniquely sympathetic way that could make anyone feel understood, "I know and we're not angry anymore. We were always wondering if you were at the very least alive." His brown eyes crinkled at the corners like a grandparent encouraging their grandchildren, no matter how stupid they sound. That warmth that used to scare her encompassed her heart again as she remembered the two years she spent with them.

But like she had told him: _Things change._

He was about to add more, but Lindsay cut him off, "And I am, doing well in fact. Now I have a drunk to care for, I'm sure you can relate." She tried to return the smile, but only could manage a slight twinge of the lips.

It was too sudden and too late at night for the muscles to function properly.

Lindsay used all her willpower to not sprint into her car and sped away like she was running away from the villains. Because Jack wasn't one. Hell, the Fake AH Crew wasn't one. At the end of the day, _she_ left. _She_ hurt them by disappearing. By anyone else's view, _she_ was the big baddie that was being selfish.

_But I don't care. So what if I left? It worked out pretty fucking well and when did I ever care about someone else's view of me?_

With Ryan snoring away in the passenger seat and Burnie probably passed out in his own alcoholic binge, her mind was too busy for a past issue. So she turned on the radio, put the volume low enough for Ryan to sleep through, and quietly sang along to whatever pop music was in until she arrived to her apartment.

-

Jack watched the car speed off, not bothering to memorize the license plate because she would change it anyway. The dim orange light flickered, tugging his thoughts back to the absurd time. It took until he was only a few minutes away from his home to realize he was smiling.

 _But she left again_ , his mind supplied as he questioned himself,  _ran away again_.

 _Yet she's okay_ , another part countered and he grinned again, _she's alive and thriving_. Like a flower, she blooming just fine without them. It should have made him sad. And it did, Jack misses their shared love of cats and mostly animals in general. But Lindsay's happy and even allowed herself to care about others. It was a huge difference to the one he used to know.

The lock clicked loudly in the silence of 4 AM, just before the birds will awake with a new found energy. As the door slid close, Jack put all thoughts of the future and past aside.

He simply focused on how soft the bed was against his tired body and the warmth of the man beside him contrasting the cool of air conditioner.

But if that model’s face appeared in his dreams, blue eyes dark and sober, nobody had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for new series! I love gta au's so let's hope I finish this soon c: Got a lot planned!


End file.
